Second Verse, Same As The First…Oh Wait. Fourth Time?
Hello my wee hummingbirds. And how have you been this week? Good, I hope? No floods rushing you out of house and home? No brush fires ruining everything you own? Oh good. Guess where I’VE been!
The World: the hospital. Again.
Me: Well there’s no need to be snippy.
The World: You’re getting very easy to discern.
Me: *sulking* Still no need to be rude. *kicks dirt*
The World: And WHY were you in the hospital AGAIN?
Me: Because my pancreas is tired. Tired of booze. And my brain is too broken to realize that.
The World: But there was some good news!
Me: Um…Good? News? Have you been AROUND for the last week?
The World: You weren’t paying attention to what was going on around you?
Me: Not really. I was actually pretty concentrated on the hospital gown not showing my boob to the world.
The World: YOU WEREN’T IN THE BIN, YOU TWIT.
Me: Oh yeah. That was okay.
The World: OKAY? What the hell do you mean “okay”? You had your own room! With a television! and a bed that went up and down! If that isn’t paradise, missy, I don’t know what is.
Me: I was lonely.
The World: I’m going to be very, very patient with you right now. You live alone. You actively sequester yourself whenever you can. And now you’re WHINING about being in your own room with (albeit disgusting) food brought to you? What do you want, men in loincloths feeding you grapes, you ungrateful wench?
Me: I had no one to talk to. No phone. No internet. No visitors. Just me in that room watching reruns of “Everybody Loves Raymond” which is on every channel at some point during the day, might I add.
The World: Millions of people would have given all their teeth to have that setup.
Me: I know, and I know it makes me a horrible person, but all it did was give me endless hours in my head, repeating and repeating all my sins. I’m a bad person. Lying alone constrained by a million wires and tubes with only your thoughts will make you realize that. It was pretty awful. No. It was completely awful. I felt like the Dementors were all around me.
The World: We are not slipping into Harry Potter references, so knock it off right now.
Me: It was just…bad. And it was all my fault, wasn’t it? If I hadn’t slipped AGAIN, this wouldn’t have happened.
The World: Well, no it wouldn’t have, but bygones-
Me: Do you know how many relationships I’ve destroyed because of my bipolar and/or drinking? Three. Three men who might have treated me better if I didn’t drink. Maybe they still would have been selfish and immature and mean, but I added fuel to the fire by drinking. I could be married right now. I could have…I could have a baby. I could have a life. My meds doc doesn’t know what to do with me, my therapist is so wonderful sometimes I feel like curling up on her lap and crying till I go dry. My parents are at their wit’s end. And it’s all my fault. They can only lock me up for so long before the hospital boots me out and then where do I do? The State hospital? The street? When are people just going to give up on me?
The World: Are you finished? Because you’re playing your own funeral march and you’ve never been any good at the piano.
The World: Listen to me. The world is fucked up. Your town had a tornado AND a hurricane in ONE WEEK and you live in motherfucking NEW JERSEY. That’s not normal! That’s fucked RIGHT UP. So things are bad. You’re used to that. And you’re also, whether you want to believe it or not, prone to good times too. Just don’t. Give. Up. That means they win. All the horrible boys you dated. All the terrible bitches who made fun of you. Do not let them win. Get up, wipe your nose, and go the hell to bed. You haven’t slept in days.
Me: I didn’t have my woobie.
The World: I know. I’m sorry.
Me: Okay. This is me holding on. Things are always better in the morning, right?
The World: right.
Me: Thank you.
The World: Oh, I’m always here. Go out on the porch and look for Orion. That always calms you down.
Me: I love you.
The World: I know.